


The only hope for me is you

by ariados



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, football au, tumblr ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariados/pseuds/ariados
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted tumblr ficlets, will add more as I write them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only hope for me is you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> korra/asami football player/cheerleader AU

It’s down to the last play of the game - sweat thickens in the air, settling into the gaps between chest-rattling pants, the ones that the bodies around her can’t seem to slow or stop or quiet. There are lines of it, running down her temples and pooling in the dip at the front of her helmet, and it’s there that the smell congeals, sweetens her every sharp inhale, makes her high on her last reserves of adrenaline. She’s worn down to the bit and her legs are shaking with it, and the cage over her face - the black bars, they’re blurring together and she’s fighting to stay in focus. The stadium lights are too close, she catches herself thinking. She might have a concussion, she might –

When the ball snaps, there’s the slowest moment between when it leaves center’s grass-stained hands and connects with the quarterback’s - Bolin’s, his labored breathing is distinct against her ears, never desperate but always  _so damn hopeful_ , a tattoo-beat of wheezes through his nose and breathy but unrushed exhales leaving his mouth. She hears it over the din, not expecting the chance to see it with her eyes. The moment is slow, not slow enough, and her cleats are seconds ahead, five seconds ago they’d already dug into the mud and ruined turf, and now she is  _surging_ , breaking left with a defense-man missing her by a tail.

They’re down. But she’s here, she’s here,  _she’s open._  Her movements are fluid like running water, rushing with it on nothing but momentum and the spit caught between her cheeks. She’s in her element, and she’s wide open – the wide receiver, if you can imagine that.

The scrimmage line is a mass of writhing bodies clamoring against each other, and she doesn’t see the quarterback, doesn’t see  _anyone_. It’s only her, and she’s so ready for it, when suddenly the football’s spiraling out of the mess of flattened and crushed jerseys. She sees nothing but that single object in that moment, and –  _yes_  – she catches it, only half turned back over her shoulder, and she’s cradling it safely against her chest when she makes it into the endzone. For all the world, it could’ve been silent over that stretch of time, but no, the crowd is going wild with it, warping around her like a single entity. She’s tired and numb with it as the rest of her team makes their way over to her and she’s being lifted up on their shoulders.  _They won._  Her face is blank beneath her helmet, stunned. It isn’t until she’s being dropped by the bench amongst all the screams and the whooping and the congratulating punches to her shoulders that the cheersquad makes it over the group.

Asami’s eyes are glowing under the stadium lights, and she’s smiling so big at her that Korra has to rip off her helmet and let a grin of her own split her face. Everything else is white noise when Korra gets a hand on Asami’s cheek, brushes a finger, so gentle in the roughness of the adrenaline-drenched moment, across the pink blush Korra’d come to love painted on Asami’s cheeks. She’d always looked so much better than Korra in makeup – and the thought had occurred to her many times before, but now that she’s thinking about it, she’s zeroing in on the warm red lipstick that Asami always wears for game nights.

And even with all the people in a circle around them, she  _has to_. She tosses her helmet aside and reaches for her cheerleader,  _hers_ , and hikes Asami up in her arms so that she’s looking down at her, beautiful brown hair – and Korra would vouch a thousand times over,  _not like all those other browns_ – is falling forward into her face and red-lipped smile, and Asami’s the one who does it, leans down and pulls her into a victory kiss.

They’re met with more cheers than before, louder, drowning out any offensive words that anyone would dare mutter. And who cares? When Korra’s got the team she fought for crowing around her, and the girl of her dreams right here in her arms.

Asami’s fingers tighten where they’re holding onto the dark skin of Korra’s upper arms, so tight that the skin is going white with the pressure. And Korra’s never dreamed she could move mountains before, but she feels that, now, she could better well try.


End file.
